


We Are Fortune's Fools

by susieboo



Category: Carmilla (Web Series), Carmilla - All Media Types
Genre: Abusive Lilita Morgan, Abusive Parents, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Creatures & Monsters, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Tragedy, Backstory, Banshee Perry, Banshee Powers, Banshees, Biting, Child Abuse, Dreams and Nightmares, Dysfunctional Family, Eventual Smut, F/F, Family, Family Drama, Fate, Fate & Destiny, Femslash, Fluff and Angst, Human/Vampire Relationship, Lesbian Sex, Light Bondage, Masturbation, Masturbation in Shower, Mind Games, Minor Original Character(s), Mutual Pining, Neck Kissing, Nightmares, Original Character(s), Prequel, Sad, Sad Ending, Sad Lola Perry, Sexual Fantasy, Supernatural Lola Perry, Vampire Sex, i mean vampire/banshee i guess, permonde, well sort of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-24
Updated: 2015-10-24
Packaged: 2018-04-27 20:29:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5062996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/susieboo/pseuds/susieboo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Between her complicated relationship with her father, her ever-growing interest in the supernatural, and her dreams being constantly plagued by visions of death, nothing in Lola Perry's life seems sane. The only person that truly understands her is a mysterious woman that moves in next door to Perry and her family when Perry's sixteen years old, a Miss Madeline Rook. </p><p>Or, as she prefers to be called, Mattie.</p><p>Mattie promises to help Perry discover the source of her dreams -- but her visions are growing more disturbing by the day, as well are the abilities that come with them. And despite her affection for Perry, Mattie has reasons of her own to keep her at arm's length.</p><p>[Permonde. Some smut, but not the main focus. Angst. So much angst.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_Dream on, dream on, of bloody deeds and death:_  
_Fainting, despair; despairing, yield thy breath!_

**Richard III**

* * *

 

Dolores Perry didn't scream. 

 

It was tempting. Very, very tempting. She felt the noise forming in her throat, practically begging to be let out, but she forced it down, squeezing her eyes shut and curling in on herself a bit tighter. At the age of nine, she'd learned not to wake her parents with her nightmares -- a lesson learned with a heavy hand and harsh words -- a long time ago. No, in the Perry household on Bechdel Avenue, all problems were dealt with in one of two ways: with fists, or with silence. Dolores - or, as her father called her, "Lola" - much preferred silence.  

 

She opened her eyes, switching on the lamp that sat at her bedside, and grabbed the pink diary with a flimsy lock that she kept hidden under her mattress, for fear her father would see it. She tended to keep most things hidden from him, figuratively or literally. If he knew she kept a diary, he'd read it. If he read it, he'd find her very, incredibly, worryingly detailed accounts of her dreams. If he found those, he'd know she was still having dreams. And that meant he'd tell Mom. And telling Mom meant going to see another "expert" who would try to "cure" their little Lola of whatever "demons" or "issues" plagued her, the phrasing depending on whether the expert in question leaned more towards the medical or the mystical. Lola like the mystical much better. It sounded more... fantastical. Escapist, almost. Like it couldn't _really_ be happening to her. This couldn't _really_ be her life.

 

Except it was. It always had been. Nightmares, every night, for as long as she could remember. She was sure she'd been having nightmares long before she even understood what nightmares were.

 

Lola didn't mind doctors and psychics and occultists, much. The appointments usually got her out of school. She liked school well enough, but the only person that made it bearable was Susan LaFontaine, her best friend since they were five years old. And if they saw an occultist, she got to hear about spirits and the Otherworld. She loved that kind of talk. But seeing these experts wasn't cheap. Lola wasn't entirely sure when she began to understand that, just that one day, she realized that experts cost money they really didn't have. But Mrs. Perry - also named Dolores, hence why her daughter was usually called "Lola" - insisted that her daughter get the care she felt she needed. But when they spent money they didn't really have, Dad argued with Mom more than ever, and sometimes she'd end up with bruising across her pale skin. Lola didn't like it when her father turned his anger on her, but she liked it when he turned it on her mother even less. So her journal would be her confidant. (Well, theoretically - Dolores could always tell when Lola hadn't slept.)

 

Lola found a blue gel pen and sat up on her bed, crossing her legs and balancing the diary on her lap before writing.

 

_Tonight, I had a dream that I was drowning in a river. I could feel myself sinking deeper and deeper into the water, but I couldn't move. My legs were heavy, like rock. I felt my breath running out - it felt like my lungs were on fire. I couldn't see anything. I was just surrounded by black, empty water. No matter how low I sank, I couldn't feel the bottom of the river. Right as I began to feel dizzy, like I was about to pass out, I woke up._

 

_Susan made me promise to tell Mom if I had another nightmare this week, but I don't think I'm going to tell her. I couldn't tell Susan about it, though. Her parents like each other. She wouldn't get it._

 

"She wouldn't get it." This phrase was often written whenever Susan was mentioned in the diary.

 

_"I feel like the man whose body I found in my dream was someone I really knew, like he was my friend. But I didn't tell Susan that part. She wouldn't get it."_

 

_"I heard Dad say something about my trust fund. I don't think I have one anymore. Susan wouldn't get it. Neither do I, actually."_

 

_"I tried to explain the Otherworld to Susan, but she looked at me like I was crazy. I knew she wouldn't get it."_

 

Lola sighed, closing the diary and sliding it back to its hiding place under her mattress. She lied down, hoping she'd get some sleep tonight.

 

She didn't. And her mother noticed, made an appointment with another therapist, paying with yet another credit card. And her father hit the roof. And Lola went to sleep listening to the screaming that night.

 

Like clockwork.


	2. Chapter 2

_Suspicion always haunts the guilty mind._

**King Henry VI**

* * *

 

Lola liked making lists. Lists kept things organized, and keeping things organized made life easier. As Susan - sorry, _LaFontaine_ \- always said, "Obsessed are the listmakers." Perry had thrown a jellybean at her - sorry, _them_ \- and said she wasn't obsessed with anyone or anything, but they both knew that wasn't true. 

On a cool, crisp October morning when she was sixteen years old, she was running through one of her most frequently used mental lists: Stop Dad and Mom From Taking Me to Another Doctor, Thus Stopping Them From Fighting.

Since her childhood, Lola's nightmares had grown steadily worse. Now, they weren't even limited to nighttime. Sometimes, she'd be overcome by visions of death and destruction, even in her waking hours. Yesterday at school, she'd had another one. She'd just been walking to class, like normal, when her vision began to cloud. The first time this had happened, when she was twelve, she'd panicked. She'd thought she was about to pass out, or worse. But this time, her only thought had been,  _Oh God, oh God, oh God, not now, please, God, not now._

As usual, her brain didn't listen to her, and right there, in the middle of the hallway, her vision became entirely encased by black smoke. She'd been forced to stop walking. Sometimes, in the early days of these hallucinations, she'd tried to keep walking, pretend that it wasn't happening, but she'd found that that made matters worse. So, she stayed frozen in the middle of the hallway. When the smoke in her vision cleared, she found herself in a dark forest, wind blowing in her hair, standing by the edge of a river. As the river flowed on, it began to run with red, a darker shade of crimson than even the reddest rose. She wanted to walk away. She wanted to run into the dark forest, run until she found civilization, or maybe just a place to hide. But her legs seemed to be made of stone, and she couldn't move. She couldn't do anything but stare at the bloody water, watching the river rush by. 

And then, facedown and beaten, some poor man's body floated by.

Lola wanted to scream - she nearly did - but, as if she were possessed, as if she was losing control of her own body, she instead whispered, in a voice that wasn't quite her own,  _"The dark shadow of death has cast itself over this place, and you float down the river Styx to your eternal afterlife. Death is ubiquitous, death is forever, death is almighty. We can never hope to defeat it. Mortals must bear this curse, and one day meet oblivion. The dark shadow of death has cast itself--"_

Suddenly, the scene smashed away, and she was back in the school hallway. Everyone staring at her, LaFontaine standing beside her, touching her arm, looking concerned. And, Lola realized, as her cheeks flushed as red as her hair, she'd been speaking aloud. Again. LaFontaine had quickly taken her by the arm and led her away to the nurse's office, glaring at everyone that stared at them, as if daring them to say something and make fun of Lola. Lola kept her head down as they walked, feeling as if her face was on fire, feeling the weight of the eyes on her back, the sting of tears in her eyes. No matter how long she had to endure this, she always felt so humiliated, so ashamed.

These "visions", as LaFontaine called them, always left Lola feeling fatigued, dizzy, like she hadn't slept in several days, so, as much as she would've loved to go to class and pretend it didn't happen, she let LaFontaine lead her to the nurse. The nurse was a middle-aged, dowdy woman named Bridgette, who had gotten used to seeing Lola in her office over the years. She sighed when she saw LaFontaine and Lola, Lola staring at her feet and LaFontaine looking worried, and peered at them over her red-framed glasses.

"Another one?"

Lola couldn't bring herself to say anything. Fortunately, LaFontaine said something for her. "Yeah. Can you tell her teacher she needs to lie down? She's supposed to be in Mr. Larkin's class now, I can pick up her assignments--"

"That's no problem, honey. You run along, now." LaFontaine cast one last look at their best friend, before nodding and heading off to Mr. Larkin's classroom. "Lola, you just lie down on the cot. I'll call your parents--"

"Please don't!" Lola suddenly said, looking up, eyes wide. 

Bridgette frowned at her. "Lola, part of our agreement with your parents was that we alert them every time it happens--"

"But surely you didn't mean _every time_ , every time?"

"...Yes, Lola, I've told them every time this happened. I thought you knew."

"Oh, God, oh, God..."

"It's okay, honey. Just lie down and try to clear your head."

Perry did as she was told and lied back on the small cot, but she couldn't clear her head. Her thoughts were racing. She hadn't told her parents about her visions in months -- she only ever brought them up when they did first. And they hadn't mentioned any phone calls from the school. How long had they been receiving them? A month? Six months? Her entire high school career?

Her stomach churned at the thought. 

For years, she'd tried to do what her father wanted and keep up the family facade of normality. She had tried her best to just be an average, mediocre high school student, to blend in with her surroundings and peers. A normal existence was all she wanted. But apparently, even that was too much to ask for.

So that was why the night before, she had lied awake listening to her parents argue.

"Dolores, the girl needs to learn how to stop this nonsense before it gets her into trouble!"

"She can't help it! You _know_ she'd stop if she could!"

"Really? Because it seems to me it gets worse all the time!"

"That's why we have to be there for her to support her! To let her know we love her no matter what!"

"I can't handle her always--"

"Oh, _you_ can't handle it?"

"Don't interrupt me, you stupid bitch!"

"Don't call me--"

Lola, unable to listen to any more, had put in her earbuds until she fell into an uneasy sleep. When she went downstairs the next morning for breakfast, she didn't comment on the fresh bruise near her mother's lip, or on how her father seemed to radiate anger even more than usual. After all, they were playing Happy Family. Or maybe just Normal Family. She forced down a breakfast of scrambled eggs and bacon, running through the Stop Dad and Mom From Taking Me to Another Doctor, Thus Stopping Them From Fighting list. 

_1\. Eat quickly and quietly. Don't mention what happened._

Check.

_2\. See if Dad's still mad._

Check. He definitely was.

_3\. Find an excuse to get out of the house. The longer you're out, the better._

"I'm going over to Susan's," she said quietly. "We're working on a project."

"Hm?" her mother said, somewhat distracted as she worked on that day's crossword. "Okay, hon. Be back by dinner."

"I will."

Check.

_4\. Grab your survival supplies._

Lola stood from the table, shoveling down what remained of her food and quickly putting her dish in the sink. Without a word, she scurried upstairs and grabbed her bag, loading it up with her usual survival supplies for a day out of the house and the hell away from her parents. Granola bars, her dream journal, her cell phone, and her iPod. All her other supplies -- Tarot cards, her books about spirits and the Otherworld, the supposedly-genuine spellbook she'd found in a used bookstore -- were stored at LaFontaine's, safely hidden from her parents. It wasn't worth the risk of keeping them at home. She could just picture her father deciding to go through her desk one day and losing his mind over her dabbling in the occult on top of everything else.

She slung her bag over her shoulder and headed back downstairs.

Check.

_5\. Get the fuck out of Dodge._

Big check. She was out the door without so much as a goodbye. Once she was on the tired and true path to her best friend's house, she fished her phone out of her bag and sent a text.

_[MSG: from LOLA to SUSAN:] Headed over to your place. Parents are driving me crazy. See you in 15? :)_

Okay, so she hadn't totally adjusted to Susan becoming LaFontaine. She didn't like it or understand it. She'd call her - them - that to their face, but in her head (and on her phone), they were Susan.

Only a minute later, she received a reply. It wasn't what she was hoping for.

_[MSG: from SUSAN to LOLA:] No one's there. Mom+Dad dragging me on a college tour. :(((_

_[MSG: from LOLA to SUSAN:] What?!?!_

_[MSG: from SUSAN to LOLA:] I know, I'm sorry! I didn't know until late last night._

_[MSG: from LOLA to SUSAN:] Crap._

Now what?

* * *

 

The answer to that question came in the form of a moving truck.

Lola had decided to head to the library instead, which required her to turn around and go back past her house. She hoped against hope that her parents wouldn't be in the front yard. As she walked back up her street, she was surprised to see a moving truck in front of the old stone house that had sat empty next door to her own house for as long as she could remember. She couldn't imagine why anyone would want the place, but apparently, someone had. Lola stood there for a moment, watching as a couple men unloaded a seemingly endless parade of boxes, taking them into the house. The new inhabitant still hadn't shown themselves. Lola wondered what they could be like. A family, perhaps? Maybe even a family with a daughter her age, one who would be awesome enough to make her and LaFontaine's duo a trio? Or maybe a really cool old person. She'd never met one, but she knew they existed. 

Apparently, she wasn't the only one to notice the new neighbors. As she was standing there, staring, her own front door opened, and her mother stepped out, carrying a tray of cupcakes. Not wanting to be detected, Lola quickly sprung into action and ran around to hide behind the now-no-longer-vacant house, as her mother walked up the front steps to give their new neighbor a "welcome to the neighborhood" gift. She could hear her mother talking to someone - a woman - but she didn't make out the words, nor did she care to. She was concentrated on waiting for her mother to leave so she could bail. The talking ceased, but Lola remained crouching behind the house, in her new neighbor's backyard, poorly hidden by a shrub, for a few more minutes, just to be sure her mother had gone back into the house.

"Darling, unless you're a magnolia, I don't think you belong in my yard."

The voice, low, deep, almost purring, came out of nowhere. Lola jumped slightly, falling back on the dirt, barely catching herself on her hands. Embarrassed, she looked up to see that a tall, dark-skinned woman had come out of the house's back door. She was incredibly imposing, and gorgeous - her dark hair put up in a bun, her red dress looking out-of-place and too fancy for a homey, simple street like this, her brown eyes glinting with superiority.

Lola tried, in vain, to get a coherent sentence out. "I--I--I--um--"

"Are you going to get up, darling, or do I have to remove you?"

She stumbled to her feet, still inexplicably unable to say anything even remotely intelligent. Lola couldn't take her eyes off of her. 

The new neighbor raised an eyebrow quizzically, as if challenging her.

Lola swallowed the lump in her throat.

"Sorry - I - I was just - just hiding from - from - "

The other woman actually laughed at that, amused at her obvious inability to string two words together.

"Should I even ask?"

"Pr-probably not." Good God, she did not want to get into the matter with her. Trying to regain some dignity, Lola extended a hand. "I'm Lola Perry. I live next door."

She hesitated for just a brief moment, before taking Lola's hand and shaking it. Her hands were cold, but soft. Lola had to remind herself to let go when she pulled away.

"Madeline Rook. Call me Mattie."

"O-okay. Nice to meet you, Mattie."

"Darling, I hate to get off on the wrong foot with my new neighbor, but I have a lot to do. You should probably run home."

Lola didn't like the way she was talking to her - as if Lola were a small child. Granted, she looked a few years older than her, but not by much. She couldn't have been more than six or seven years older than her. Lola was sixteen, not five.

Even so, she nodded. "Yeah. I'll see you around, I guess."

She walked away, casting a glance over her shoulder to look at Mattie again. Mattie wasn't looking back at her, and was now attending to her nails, checking them for chips. Lola wasn't sure whether to be upset or relieved that she had escaped her attention.

* * *

 

She didn't go home until dinnertime, having gone to the library following her encounter with Mattie. Not that she could focus on her reading much. That night, just before bed, Lola was sitting at her desk, trying to read some more, when her father came into her room. 

Hunter Perry and his daughter looked somewhat alike - red hair, blue eyes - and had some of the same quirks, but for the most part, their resemblances were slim. Especially where her visions and dreams were concerned.

"Hey, Lola," he said, not waiting to be invited before he sat down on her bed. Lola's heartbeat sped up, praying to whatever deity that he couldn't feel the diary beneath the mattress. "We need to talk, kid."

"...About what?" she said, knowing the answer perfectly well.

"These... fits... you keep having." She could already feel her face heating up. "Look, Lola, you're not a kid anymore. You can't just keep on having these spells if you ever want to lead a normal life. A nice, normal life with a husband to love you and kids -- isn't that what you want?"

She'd been ready to argue before he was even halfway through the statement. But she knew all too well that interrupting Hunter Perry was a good way to guarantee you'd get hit in the mouth. 

"I can't help it," she said quietly. "I want to stop. But it just happens."

"Lola. Honey. If it was involuntary, one of those quack doctors we took you to would've been able to put an end to it by now."

Lola looked down at her lap, squeezing her eyes shut.  _Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry._

"Lola, you're just embarrassing yourself. You know that."

_Don't cry. Don't cry._

"And frankly, you're embarrassing us, too.  It's not easy, dealing with a kid that makes things up for attention--"

"I don't make anything up for--"

"--and who refuses to respect her own parents," he added, this time through gritted teeth. Lola dared to meet his gaze for half a second.

He glared.

She shrunk away and looked down again.

_Don't cry._

"My point is - I don't want to hear about this again, okay? Get it together. Grow up."

_Don't..._

Lola wanted to argue. She wanted to stand up and scream that she couldn't get it together, that she'd love nothing more than to get it together and just be a normal girl, but that she couldn't. She wanted to yell at him, to grab him by the shoulders and shake him, to hit him and see how he liked it, but she didn't dare.

So she just whispered, "Okay."

And all at once, Hunter's demeanor went from cold to friendly, smiling at her. Somehow, that was worse.

"That's my sweet girl," he said, standing up and kissing the top of her head, hugging her. Lola didn't even respond. "I love you, Lola. You know that."

Was this what love was?

"...I love you, too," she forced herself to mutter.

He smiled at her again, before finally leaving her alone. He didn't close the door behind him, so Lola got up to close it herself. She leaned her back against the door, staring at the wall. She stayed there for a long time.

* * *

 

That night, despite her promise to her father, Lola had dreams of death and of blood. She also had nice dreams, though. About LaFontaine and her mother and fairies and magic and endless peace.

One of them was about Mattie.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and constructive criticism is always appreciated!


End file.
